Memories, Secrets and The Past
by SaintJacTheGingerNinja
Summary: Jac Naylor, Oliver Valentine and a lift... what could possibly go wrong? Left dangerously trapped after a lift collaspes, can they escape before it is too late, and what dark fear is Jac hiding? PLEASE R&R! :D
1. An Unlikely Duo

**Ok, I know I should be writing my other fic, but this idea didn't want to leave my head. Will probably be only a couple of chapters. Enjoy! :)**

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><p>Jac Naylor casually pressed the panel for the lift, watching the numbers, slowly, travel downwards. She glanced at her wristwatch; she was in unimpeachable time as usual and, yet again, her incompetent F2 Oliver Valentine was no where to be seen. <em>Stupid F2! Why did I even agree to mentor him anyway? He is always late. Whether that's due to a drunken hangover or a meaningless fling, I don't know. <em>Eventually, the door uttered a disgruntled **PING**, and she entered the lift. Abruptly, the drenched figure of Dr Valentine burst into the Hospital, yelling at his mentee and waving an unused umbrella in the air. Skidding to a halt in front of the lift that had, conveniently, not yet closed, Oliver quickly exhaled in relief, muttered a few unprofessional words, and accessed the elevator. Glancing at his dry umbrella, Jac dismissed her questions, knowing better than to question her mentees strange actions. The lift was devoid of any life except the unlikely duo, so there was no anxious chatter from scared relatives or the reassuring tones of the overworked nurses, or the confident, tactless banter from doctor to doctor, there was only silence. Uncomfortable silence. Jac pictured the darkness of the empty shaft below, so she tried to block it out by staring, unblinkingly, at the numbered display of the changing floors. She had been haunted her whole life by a mild case of claustrophobia – the vestige of a childhood incident she had never quite overcome. Jac's aversion to closed spaces had always frustrated her. She had spent years building up her reputation as the "Ice Queen", and if this weakness was known, it could, potentially, ruin her. Jac had often suspected that a small part of wanting to become a doctor was because of her craving for wide, airy spaces like the wards on Darwin. However, she didn't account for the many lifts needed to travel through the hospital, because she always, if she could, chose to take the stairs instead… besides, they were quicker.

Oliver cleared his throat nervously, hoping to break the empty silence, but instead broke Jac's incessant daydream. She blinked for a couple of seconds, composing her self. "Have you got into the flea circus yet?" Jac mocked, sarcasm becoming her shield now. She smiled to herself, and Oliver simply rolled his eyes, knowing that any reply would be thrown back into his face. "Surely you're not speechless Dr Valentine?" cynicism, yet again, dripping from her words and condensing her mask. Slowly, Ollie sighed, stealing a look at his mentor. Her red hair was laying down the arch of her back, and looked like, to Ollie, crackling flames. She was wearing a simple, but nice, white laced top that hugged her faultless figure perfectly, and some plain, black as night trousers – _blacker than the_ _heart in her chest _– Ollie thought.

Suddenly, the whole lift aggressively shook, sending Oliver and Jac plummeting to the ground. The elevator groaned and screeched in protest, emitting bright sparks from the machinery above. Jac's heart thumped in complaint. Quickly, she threw her hands over her face in a protective arc as debris was thrown into the air. Utter terror exhumed her. Threatening to pull her down into darkness. Oliver had hit the ground with great potency and his limp body had found its way to the other end of the lift to where he had first stood, blood issuing from the wound on his head. _Whats going on?_ Jac blinked, trying to make sense of the situation. As unexpectedly as it had started, the tremor stopped. Jac coughed quite violently in the denser, smoke – filled air and, on her trembling knees, made her way to the motionless F2, expecting the worst. As she rolled over his unmoving body, Jac mentally prepared herself for what she might see. She caught her breath. A shiver crept down her spine. Slowly, she surveyed the figure in front of her, checking relentlessly for any sign of injury except the abrasion on his head. Leaning over him, she examined Oliver's pulse against her watch. Was he dead?


	2. Blood, Blood, and More Blood

Oliver's eyes flickered, and then shut again. Everything was black. Rapidly, a shooting pain extending from the side of his head to the ache in his legs came into reality. He moaned and rolled over onto his side. His lungs burned as they came accustomed to the smoke in the air and he reached out to feel the wound on his head, expecting uncongealed blood. But, as his hand met his cranium, instead of the stickiness of the blood that he had been anticipating, he felt a soft material that had been wrapped carefully around the gash. He couldn't have been unconscious for that long could he? Slowly, he opened his eyes, glancing around and wincing as they adjusted to the light. His first sight was the trembling figure of Jac Naylor, leaning on the wall of the lift behind, her arms stretched around her knees in a protective circle. She was still in a state of utter terror, repeatedly muttering to herself that everything was going to be ok. She hadn't even noticed that Ollie was conscious.

_It's going to be fine. Don't worry, they will come and get you. But, isn't that what I said last time?_ For an instant, she was six years old, the blackness forcing her back to the nine hours of crushing darkness that haunted her still. Shaking her head almost violently to defeat the conquering memories, Jac angrily wiped away the dirt on her face, cursing her self for being so pathetic. She stole a glance at her F2, and found that he was awake. Panic found her then. Had he seen her weakness?

"Finally decided to join me Dr Valentine?" she uttered, her voice faltering at the edges. Instead of expressing a reply, Oliver lifted himself up slowly and rested his head onto the end of the lift, only flinching slightly as the wound stung. "I don't think the flea circus will take you in that condition Ollie, you better withdraw your application." Jac smirked, her voice strengthening as her Ice-Queen exterior became more apparent.

"Yeah, I don't think they would have chosen me anyway – I'm too tall." Oliver replied, getting a rare smile from his mentee. He paused and studied his colleague slowly and fixed her eyes with a confused stare. "Did you do this?" He asked, gesturing to his head.

"Who do you think did it, Nelly the Elephant?" Jac mocked, her eyes travelling around the room.

"Right, yeah, of course." Oliver muttered, amazed at his own stupidity.

"Thanks is traditional." Jac said, her eyes now examining the jacket she had placed around Oliver's head.

"Umm… yeah… Thanks." Ollie ended the conversation awkwardly; he tweaked his tie self-consciously, the thought only just occurring to him that he was on the opposite side of the lift to which he had started. He turned to his mentor, who was now rocking backwards and forwards slightly, wondering if she was also hurt. As his eyes travelled over her slim figure, he noticed the lack of scratches or bruises but the excess blood that had covered her top. _Guess that's mine. _He thought. Satisfied that Jac had come to no physical harm, Oliver turned his mind to speculate what had happened. Had there been an explosion? Had the lift fell? Is anyone else hurt? So many questions, hardly any answers. All of a sudden, a voice erupted into the lift, making Jac and Ollie turn there heads in unison to the speaker positioned by the doors. The accent flowed through them like a ghost, its pang of American not in the least annoying as usual, but came with a sense of welcoming reprieve.

"Hello?" The voice of Michael Spence echoed from wall to wall. Oliver scrambled to the panel with the metal grill and pressed the intercom underneath.

"Yes! Michael?" Oliver yelled, turning to Jac to share the relief that someone had found them, but she had made no effort to move.

"Oliver, is it just you in there?" Michael asked, his tone of voice concerned but hurried.

"No, Ms Naylor's here as well. What happened?"

"We don't know yet. We've sent a team down to collect you, but it will take at least two hours."

"Two hours?" Oliver whined, the irritation in his voice rising. He looked to Jac, if anyone could make them move faster, it would be her. Oliver's heart thumped. Jac's complexion had gone deathly pale, her eyes glazing over. Quickly, Oliver leaped over the briefcase that was now sprawled across the floor; soon all he could hear was the soft groans from his colleague and the resounding_ thump_ of each heartbeat. Jac tried to utter some words but they came out as an unknown whisper. She clutched at her arm in pain, blood seeping from the wound. Oliver threw a half angry glance at Jac. Why hadn't she told him? "Michael!" he bellowed. "We have to get her out now!"


	3. Friends and Secrets

"We can't Ollie, haven't you been listening? What's going on?" Michael asked, bringing his hand to his forehead and wiping the sweat from his brow.

"I don't know… Jac's cut her arm somehow, perhaps from a bit of shrapnel?" He pointedly turned to Jac when he answered as it was more of a question to her than an explanation to Michael, and she nodded her head weakly in response. "There's so much blood…" Ollie yelled, arms flailing around his head in circles. Jac was staring at Oliver in a state of absolute terror, fuelled by the excruciating pain issuing from her arm. Soon, though, the steely determination that Jac cherished and Oliver admired resurfaced, and he could see it flicker in her eyes.

"Ollie, there's…" Jac started, faltering as her lungs burned with the might of a coughing fit wracking her body. She could feel her eyelids drooping. Kneeling down next to her, Oliver called her name and shook her shoulders in an attempt to get her to open her eyes; the hand grasping her wounded arm fell to the floor.

"Ms Naylor, stay with me!" Oliver warned in frustration. A moan past her lips and her eyes fluttered open.

"I... I'm… not… going… anywhere…" Jac slurred, still conscious but unable to move. "If… I… die Ollie…"

"You're not going to die!" Oliver cut her of, glancing around him frantically in the hope of finding some solution.

"No, if I do die, I want you to remember something for me, just too little words." A ghostly smile passed her lips.

"What's that?"

"You're fired!" Oliver threw his head back in a silent laugh and unbuttoned his top, placing it secularly around Jac's arm in a kind of homemade bandage.

"Right… well the thing is… I quite love this job, so I'm not going to risk losing it, even if I have the chance to kill the legendary Ms Snaylor, ok?" Jac didn't reply, she couldn't find the energy, but her eyes uttered an unspoken thanks.

"Valentine…" Jac started, mastering all the strength she had left. "There's a suture kit… in that… briefcase… If you could…" She lifted a trembling hand to the brown case, gesturing at Ollie to obtain it. Nodding, Oliver reached for it and pulled it back to him, prising it open in a flourish. Carefully, he snatched up the stitches and needle, preparing them with one singular motion of his hands.

"Hold on… we don't have any anaesthetic." Oliver said, his hand hesitatingly hovering over Jac's arm that was whitening by the second.

"I've been through worse Ollie, trust me." Jac responded hurriedly, so she had no time to doubt Oliver's surgical skills. She looked at him square in the eye, a silent message to go ahead. Ollie gulped down some saliva that was surfacing in his mouth; he could feel the extreme pressure compressing down on him, a boa constructer circling around his throat. _What if she dies? _ He thought. Gradually, he brought the needle to her skin and began suturing. Jac quickly covered her mouth with her still trembling hand in pain, muffling the scream that escaped her lips. It hurt. It hurt so much. Jac cursed her self for showing such weakness, so when the next ripple of pain came, she bit her lip in determination. _I can do this. It's just pain. If you don't suffer, you don't feel alive._

***10 minutes later***

"Thanks Ollie, I didn't think you could do it." Jac said, eyeing Oliver with a new found respect.

"Well, I am a junior doctor." He answered smugly, pleased at his mentors interest.

"Ha. I've heard that rumour to!" Jac smiled, and Oliver simply rolled his eyes as he detached from the wall he was leaning on and sat down next to his mentor. Jac stole a look at her mentee, mentally laughing at the exasperated expression plastered on his face, and a second later he looked up too – there eyes met.

"I mean it Ollie, your dad must be proud." Jac continued, her pained expression evident.

"Your dad must be proud too." Oliver said, his dazzling blue eyes still staring into Jac's emerald ones. Swiping the hair out of her face, Jac laughed incredulously.

"Unless the dead have feelings, I think that is pretty unlikely." She exclaimed, sarcasm dripping from her words.

"What?" Oliver asked, confused. Jac raised an eyebrow.

"He's dead Ollie!"

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><p><strong>Thank you for all the lovely reviews this story is getting! I would love some more as I enjoy reading what the audience thinks! Please check out my other story as well! :D :D PLUS I AM LOOKING FOR IDEAS FOR WERE THIS STORY MIGHT LEAD i.e A ROMANCE. Please help! :) Thank you! (Again) :)<strong>


	4. Confined Spaces

Oliver felt a blush ascend his body, slightly uncomfortable at where the conversation was going. He had not know. "I'm sorry." He said, clearing his throat nervously. Jac just looked at him blankly, a small, not a happy, smile playing on her lips. _He's lying. Nobody ever cares._

"I'm not…" She replied, looking down at the floor. _For certain. _Oliver furrowed his brow, who wouldn't be sorry of their dads death? _Well, it was Jac Naylor._ She had her arms arched around her knees in a protective semi-circle once again, as if it was a barrier from unwelcome thoughts and feelings. Smoothing his trouser leg, Oliver felt the bulge of his mobile phone resting in the pocket - its sole intention was to provide some kind of get out clause for today. Slowly, he flipped it open and punched in a number; he didn't stop to look at whom, he just located a name and rang, needing some comforting tones rather than the frosty silence issuing from Ms Naylor. Two words flashed on the screen: No Signal. _Brilliant, just brilliant. _So, instead, in an act of defiance, he switched to photos. There she was. His sister, bright, happy and alive. It was a considerable change from Jac's unwelcoming aurora. _She had been beautiful. _He laughed at his drunken sister's expression, switching from photo to photo. "What, does your phone tell jokes?" Jac smirked. Abruptly, something shuddered above them, creaking in the darkness, making Jac jerk. A long, large metallic cylinder teetered high over them. The sound it made sliced the atmosphere into complete silence. Suddenly, a large bang reverberated around the room; loud, piercing. It was only when she felt the searing pain in her leg, did Jac see the huge object in front of her, trapping her and Ollie in a confined space. Her lungs felt tight. Gasping for breath, Jac felt her chest tighten and ache, the air gone from her body. She was hyperventilating. _No! Not again!_ She was six once more, the feeling taking her back to hell. **It was dark. So dark. She pounded on the door, hoping to escape. Where was he? She cried. Slowly, she drifted away… **

"Ms Naylor? Are you hurt?" Oliver asked, slightly dazed, but not at all perturbed by the small space they were now enclosed in.

"What do you think Valentine? I'm stuck in a lift with you of all people, I've missed some very important surgery and my legs now trapped under this thing!" Jac replied frantically, her Ice-Queen exterior faltering under the weight of a thousand colliding thoughts contently sitting on her shoulders. "It's not my idea of a good day!" Struggling under the weight of the massive cylinder, Oliver heaved; it moved only a couple of inches but that was enough to slide it over Jac's foot. She inhaled, however the relief vanished as panic flooded her veins. _It's going to be ok… It's going to be ok… But it's never ok! _Jac stared, unable to quite comprehend her surroundings, unaware of a confused, concerned Oliver looking on. Her heart beat in her chest. She turned to Ollie. In the split second that their eyes met, they seemed to dissipate. Jac breathed in slowly, Dr Valentine in a state of utter perplexity. "Why?" He finally said.  
>"Why what?" Jac snapped back at him, resuming the protective arc around her legs.<p>

"Why are you so scared?" Oliver stood his ground, fixing Jac with a determined stare.

"If I throw a ball with you leave?" Jac mocked, sarcasm entering her blood stream now.

"Look, Ms Naylor, we both know that something isn't right and if you're going to stay in this state for the next hour I will have to kill myself."

"How I will cherish that moment." Oliver cocked his head in an exasperated tilt. Jac sighed. Her life was a catalogue of mistakes; ranging from the small and petty, to the ones void of sanity, and what happened when she was only six years old nearly topped them all. She had trust someone.

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><p><strong>Hello! :) Hope you all enjoyed this part! Please R&amp;R. Plus please check out my other fanfics! Thank you for reading! Ideas are welcome on what can happen next. x<strong>


	5. Memories

Jac crossed her arms in defiance, declining the chance of expressing her secrets. Oliver sighed, titling his head in an act of encouragement, refusing to be repelled by her harsh exterior. Slowly, she turned to look at her mentee, and relaxed her arms from the pressure of the incessant staring from his starling blue eyes. Jac exhaled. "Ok… I'm slightly claustrophobic…" She admitted hesitatingly, brushing the hair out of her eyes. Oliver showed no recognisable emotion before uttering a single word.

"Right…" Jac raised a mocking eyebrow at his reaction - she had been expecting something different. Ollie formulated a question in his mind, weary at what Jac's response would be and knowing this query would not be a welcomed one. "Why? You were obviously not born like this, well not carved out of an ice-berg with that fear…." He began. Jac forced a petty half smile to conceal her feeling of unease. "You do have a heart don't you." Oliver said, flabbergasted at his mentors signs of weakness. Jac looked away.

"Actually, I do have a heart, but I left it in the freezer." She voiced, aware of her colleagues view of her: The Ice Queen. Something screeched above them and Jac jumped, brushing her hand, for only a second, upon Oliver's. Embarrassed, Ollie coughed, adjusting his hand to tweak his tie, but found that it was not there, he was bare-chested. Finally remembering, he stole a glance at Jac's arm, he could tell that it was hurting her as she hissed quietly under her breath every time she flinched.

"So, why are you claustrophobic?" He asked, mastering enough courage to continue the conversation.

"Ha! Do you really want to know?" Jac mocked, everyone faltered at this tactical question.

"Well, as I have nothing better to do..." Oliver replied. Jac froze. She was now deathly quiet, on the verge of tears. The memories were too much. She turned her head, her eyes fixed on the end of her stethoscope. Could she tell him? Would he listen? Closing her eyes, her mind was a tempest, slicing her usual composed persona into someone desperate, reaching out, trying to keep her head above the water. The words played around her tongue, refusing to form sentences. Minutes past.

"My dad…" Jac at last managed to say. "He… drank… a lot… He did some evil things…" She shivered automatically, remembering. "There was this one time… I was six… He came home from work, my mother was out, and he was drunk. Very drunk. I could smell it on his breath…"

**Jac Naylor smiled as she drew. Her pencil was a portal to unspoken thoughts and feelings that could be expressed in picture form, something little Jacqueline rejoiced. Gradually, the image began to appear, the swirling lines and dark shading joining as one. It was her and her dad. Happy. Jacqueline took a moment to examine it and assess how good it was. She loved drawing, and she loved writing, it was a world that she could control, nothing bad ever had to happen and she liked it that way. Suddenly, the door screamed a loud bang that reverberated around the room, deafening, piercing - a signal that **_**he**_** had arrived. Jac caught her breath. Silence shrouded the house. The sound of objects hitting the floor followed, pursued by the grumble of a man. Gingerly, Jac placed her feet onto the carpeted floor, and, after much hesitation, stood up. She reached out her hand, turned the handle that led to the hallway, and stepped outside. The hallway was white, as white as the girl's skin, or as white as the snow that had fallen outside. Now, all was quiet – it was unearthly – and she unwaveringly looked downwards beneath the spiralling staircase. Jacqueline ascended the stairs slowly, pulling her velvet dressing gown closing to her trembling body. The figure of a man was her first sight; he was tottering on the spot, talking to someone who had no presence there. "Dad?" She whispered. **

"**What!" Keith answered, lurching towards her. Jac could smell the alcohol on his breath. **

"**I drew you a picture…" Jacqueline said, her voice faltering at the edges – it was laced with slight fear. **

"**What?" Keith replied, snatching up the paper with his murky hand, creasing the edges with dirt. Blood seeped from a wound on his head – the vestige of a late night pub brawl. Seeing this, Jac's brow furrowed in concern.**

"**Do you want me to help you daddy? I can fix it; I did it at first aid club." Keith bent his knees and place his hands, forcefully onto her shoulders, so she had to stare into his cold, dead eyes. **

"**Why did you go first aid club! This medical knowledge won't get you anywhere, plus you're too stupid to understand it. Your probably kill me without knowing." He smirked.**

"**But… I might want to be a doctor daddy, to help people." Jac pleaded, her green eyes fixed onto her dad's brown ones, hers not yet a lost meadow. **

"**Why would anyone want to be a doctor? No, your beauty would be wasted. In a couple of year's time, you will join my business." Keith said, brushing the hair out of her eyes, cocked his head and lustfully examined her. **

"**What is your business daddy?" Patting his nose, Keith straightened his arched back, glancing drunkenly at his daughter. **

"**But, I still want to be a doctor; I drew me as a doctor in that picture." Jacqueline argued, vigorously pointing at the drawing in her father's shaking hands. **

"**Well… THIS IS WHAT I THINK OF YOUR PICTURE!" Keith yelled. Viciously, he ripped the image into a thousand, tiny shreds of paper which fell gently onto the tiled floor, much like Jac's broken heart. Tears began to trail her cheeks, the sadness and hurt apparent in her features and evident in all her feeling. **

"**But…" She whimpered, resisting the urge to kneel down and repair the damage. **

"**NO BUTS, YOU WILL NEVER BE A DOCTOR!" **

"**But…?"**

"**I SAID NO BUTS." With a chilling lunge, Keith struck Jac, hard, over the mouth, causing her to crumble down to the floor. **

Oliver sat, rooted to the floor, next to the trembling figure of Jac Naylor who was now rocking back and worth gently, arms protecting her sense of emotion yet again.  
>"But, that doesn't explain why…?" He finally said, touched by the alarming story.<p>

"You're not very patient are you? I'm getting there…"


	6. Reasons

**Hope you enjoy the final part of this fic! Everything comes together, in the end.**

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><p>"<strong>Dad? Please?" Jacqueline whimpered, her knees trembling and her head dripping blood onto the encrusted floor. <strong>

"**PLEASE? PLEASE?" Keith shouted, his eyes frenzied and wild. This time, he thumped Jac over the head, his drunkenness spiralling out of control. "You are really a pain in the arse!" He yelled after. Yanking her arm up, ignoring the piercing screams of anguish from his only child, he thrust her into his bedroom, opened the cupboard and propelled her inside. "Now, you stay there!" The door shut with a thundering roar. Jac was engulfed in darkness. She heard the unsettling sound of the door locking, trapping her inside. **

"**Dad!" She yelled, her fists pounding on the door – to no avail. She gulped down the saliva that had surfaced in her throat, her hands fumbling about in the darkness, her mind picturing the interior. Finally, she came across a lavish coat, something that belonged to her mothers, and she wrapped it around her self. She trembled as newly formed tears drenched her top; her head was pounding, her eyes bleary. **_**What am I going to do?**_**She thought. "I hate him! I hate him!" Jac found her self saying, spite recognisablei n her words for the first time.**

_**Why does he do this? He is my father, I'm supposed to look up to him, to love him. I used to, but can I love someone who has hurt me so much? I have given him so many chances, and now I am scared of him. My mother dosen't know what he is capable of. I HATE HIM! I HATE HIM! I just want him to go away! He is the devil, he is evil and violent and he needs to be stopped - before he can kill somebody. Because I know he will do that, one day.**_

**An hour had past, and her lungs burned as they came accustomed to the less oxygen in the space. Gulping for air, her chest ached, the tightness increasing uncontrollably. She scrambled at the edges of the door, hoping for someway of moving it, but nothing worked. Jacqueline's head rolled and she blinked, she had to stay awake! However, she could feel her eyelids drooping, and her body shuddered into unconsciousness. **

"And that's why?" Oliver asked, placing a comforting hand onto Jac's shoulder.

"No, I just told you that story for no reason at all." Jac replied, sarcasm layered, as usual, into her answer. Ollie's face broke into a small smile, his sea-blue eyes locked onto hers that was now overwhelmed with a rare emotion: Fear.

"I'm sorry." He said. Silence followed. Tentatively, Oliver lifter his hand to her cheek, tenderly stroking her beautiful skin. Jac inhaled. They leaned in. Suddenly, the lift door opened, revealing two dozen fire fighters and a smiling Greg Douglas standing in the centre. Jac and Ollie jumped back in surprise, their heads turning in unison to acknowledge their colleague. Coughing, Jac arose from the murky shrapnel around them, and, after the firemen had cut a whole in the metal cylinder cornering her, finally, stepped out of the lift. Oliver followed on behind, pulling her shoulder back to face him.

"Well…I'll see you around?"

"How about never? Is never good for you?" Jac retorted, glancing around for any sign of someone listening. Oliver sighed, his eyes glistening.

"Yeah. That's Fine." His mind told his feet to move, but they were transfixed to the floor, torn between work and his mentor.

"If I throw a stick will you leave?" Jac said, raising an eyebrow. Oliver smiled. _Definitely work. _He thought.

**THE END.**

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><p><strong>Well, there you go! Hope you enjoyed it! It's a bit on the short side I must say, but know I can concentrate on other fics. :D PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!<strong>


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